20 Roxie
Roxie
The moment I walked into Winn’s workshop, the scent of sawdust filled the air, combining with the subtle aroma of coffee from the old thermos on his workbench.
A quiet forest lay behind his property, and the next house was over a mile away.
With a light dew on the grass and a soft breeze among the leaves, it was a perfect summer morning.
And the perfect place to try to clear my mind.
The large roll-up door was partially raised, allowing sunlight to stream in and create long warm stripes on the concrete floor. Winn was bent over his workbench, smoothing the edge of a large oak board with a plane. He moved with calm precision, the blade’s path effortless.
“You know, for someone who works in an office all week, you spend an awful lot of time making things with your hands,” I said, brushing sawdust off the nearest stool before perching on it.
He didn’t look up. “And for someone who lives in the city, you’ve been showing up here a lot these past couple of weeks.”
I smirked. “What? I need a special permit to visit my own brother now?”
“Not saying that,” he murmured, shoving the plane forward again. “Just noticing.”
Noticing was Winn’s polite way of saying, I’m suspicious and I’m going to dig until I find out what’s going on.
I didn’t blame Winn for finding my recurring presence here alarming.
Normally, I only ever visited Greenwich when I was forced to be here for a family meal.
But after the disastrous gallery event that Sebastian had decided to crash, I felt like I needed to escape the city.
The only problem was that escaping to Connecticut didn’t offer much of a reprieve because memories of Sebastian and me filled almost every inch of this place. And yet I kept coming back.
I leaned my elbow on the workbench. “So … how’s work?”
His mouth twitched, just barely. “Is that small talk, or are you really interested?”
“A little of both,” I said. “Just wanted to check in on you, with how often you’re staying at the office so late.”
Winn’s plane slowed, the blade catching on the wood with a faint rasp. “I stay late when I need to. Grandpa has off-loaded most of his clients onto me, and they’re extremely high maintenance.”
“Mmm,” I responded, trying to appear nonchalant. “Are you still making your assistant stay late with you?”
That earned me a side-eye. “She doesn’t stay late because I make her. She stays because she wants to finish the work.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, drawing out the syllables. “And is that the only reason she stays late?”
He set the plane down, the muscles in his jaw tightening just enough to tell me I’d hit a nerve. “We’re not doing this.”
“What? I’m just asking if she’s cute.”
“You’re not subtle, Rox.”
“I’m not trying to be.”
Winn grabbed a sanding block and started smoothing the edge of the board he was working on, each stroke a little more forceful than necessary. “Why are you really here? Because clearly someone pissed you off, and now it’s becoming my problem.”
I shrugged, eyes scanning the neat chaos of his workshop—chisels lined in a perfect row, clamps hanging like medals on the wall, a stack of unfinished projects in the corner.
It was so perfectly Winchester. He made more sense in this workshop than he ever did inside our family’s law firm. “Maybe I missed my favorite brother.”
“I’m your only brother.”
“Exactly.”
“So tell your favorite brother the truth.”
I sighed, picking at a curl of wood he’d chiseled off and left on the workbench. “Fine. The city’s … loud right now.”
“Loud how?”
I hesitated, not sure I wanted to divulge the details to him.
Winn, who was almost five years older, saw mine and Sebastian’s escapades from elementary school through high school.
Even though he’d just finished college and was about to start law school when Sebastian and I had our falling out, he’d seen me rebuild my life in New York City, devastated but following my dreams. He had made his decision about Sebastian, and he was done with him from that point onward.
The last thing I wanted was to hear him lecture me about letting him back in my life.
Because hearing “I told you so” wasn’t exactly at the top of my list today.
Winn’s eyes narrowed just enough to tell me he wasn’t buying my vagueness.
“Loud how?” he repeated, slower this time, like he was coaxing a confession out of a guilty witness. This was a glimpse of Attorney King, not my beloved older brother.
I busied myself brushing sawdust off my jeans. “Just … people. Crowds. The usual city chaos.”
He leaned an elbow on the workbench, staring at me like I was the warped board in need of straightening. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain dark-haired corporate snake, would it?”
I froze for a second, realizing that somehow, Winn knew about Sebastian. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I saw your social media posts from Memorial Day weekend, Roxie.” Winn leveled me with a look. “I’m not dumb.”
Roxie, you’re an idiot. Once again.
My stomach dipped. Of course he’d seen them. He looked at every single one of my social media stories. I hadn’t been thinking at the time when I posted pictures from the sailboat or the house and how Sebastian had been in the background of nearly all of them.
“They were just pictures,” I said, aiming for breezy, but my voice caught in a way that made Winn’s brow lift.
“Pictures with him,” he pressed, setting down the sanding block. The sound of it thunking against the wood felt heavier than it should have. “You think I wouldn’t recognize the guy who spent half his teenage years in our backyard?”
I exhaled through my nose. “You hated him back then.”
“Yeah,” Winn said without hesitation. “Because I could see where it was heading. And guess what? I was right. That kid never had to be held accountable for a single thing. He never had to work for an ounce of what was handed to him. Life was never serious for him, and my guess is that hasn’t changed. ”
There it was—the judgment I’d been trying to avoid. I opened my mouth to deflect, but he beat me to it.
“What happened this time?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Roxie.” His voice dropped, quieter now. “You’ve been snappier than a cornered raccoon at family dinners. You’ve been coming here like this is some kind of safe house. Something happened.”
The silence between us was filled with the hum of the old shop fan in the corner, its slow, lazy rotation doing little to cut the tension. I could feel him waiting, the way he always did in cross-examinations—patient, unyielding, knowing eventually someone would crack.
I ran a fingertip along the edge of his workbench. “His best friend is dating Hallie. Pure coincidence, but it brought the two of us back into each other’s lives.”
Winn’s brows knit. “And you didn’t think to maybe … avoid him?”
I shot him a look. “Oh, sure. I’ll start skipping my best friend’s life events so I can pretend Sebastian Whittaker doesn’t exist. That’s healthy. Is that what you do, Winn? Avoid important life events by working?”
“We are talking about you, not me,” he muttered, but his tone had softened. He reached for the sanding block again, working the edge of the board until it gleamed under the morning light. “So, what’s the damage this time?”
“There’s no damage,” I lied automatically.
Winn snorted. “You’re a terrible liar.”
I picked at another curl of wood, not meeting his eyes. “He wanted a second chance—to be friends, to start fresh.”
Winn rolled his eyes as he kept working on his project. “Friends.” He said the word like it tasted bad. “I’m not sure Sebastian Whittaker could ever be considered a good friend.”
“Not everything has to be some grand betrayal, Winn,” I said, though my voice lacked the conviction I wanted it to have.
He didn’t look up. “With him, it usually does.”
I let out a breath, the kind that tried to pass for a laugh but ended up sounding more like surrender. “I get it. You don’t like him.”
“I think I’ve made that clear.” Winn set the sanding block down, finally meeting my gaze. “I’ve seen this movie before, Rox. And I know how it ends.”
“I thought it would be different this time,” I whispered, the words hanging in the silent air.
Winn moved on to a different block of wood, repeating the chiseling and sanding process. He finally looked up at me again with that unshakable mix of concern and frustration. “You’re hoping it’ll be different. But he’s not the kind of guy who changes.”
I shrugged, running a hand through my hair. “Maybe I’m a sucker for bad sequels.”
He let out a low chuckle that lacked any of the humor he’d probably intended to soften it and shook his head. “You always were stubborn.”
“You’re not seventeen anymore,” Winn said after a long moment. “You’ve got more to lose now. He screws up again, it’s not just your heart—it’s everything you’ve built for yourself since him.”
I bristled. “I’m aware, thanks.”
“I’m sure you are.” His tone wasn’t condescending, but it had the older-brother weight to it—the kind that made me want to either hug him or throw one of his chisels at his head. “I just don’t want to see you rebuilding from scratch again.”
Brushing off my jeans, I stood up, even though there wasn’t much sawdust on them. The sunlight spilling in through the half-open door seemed sharper now, cutting against the cooler shadows of the workshop.
“Noted,” I said, my voice tighter than I meant it to be.
This was why I hadn’t wanted to discuss this with him.
I could practically feel his gaze on the back of my neck, dissecting my posture, my every movement.
It was the careful assessment of a craftsman scrutinizing a piece of work.
And based on the attitude I knew I was giving him, that was exactly how I was starting to behave.
I needed to get out of this workshop, away from his well-meaning concern, before I got even snappier, or revealed more than I intended.
Or maybe I could stick around if I changed the topic.
I turned away from the workbench, pretending to study the array of tools neatly arranged on the wall. I was pretty sure they were hung in both alphabetical order and size, which was so perfectly Winn.
“So,” I said, forcing lightness into my voice, “what’s your assistant’s name again?”
Winn glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Renee. Renee Willman.”
I nodded, folding my arms against my chest. “Renee, huh? Does she keep you in line?”
He grinned, the tension in his jaw visibly softening. “She’s the one who keeps me from losing my mind. Quiet, efficient, doesn’t take any crap.”
“Sounds like the perfect assistant.” I leaned against the wall, feeling a little lighter than before now that the topic of conversation had drifted from me and my situation with Sebastian.
“Yeah, well, don’t get any ideas. We’re strictly business. Nothing funny about it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sure, sure. That’s what they all say.”
He gave me a pointed look. “You’re impossible.”
The easy banter made me smile, lightening the weight I felt pressing down on my shoulders. “Maybe. But it’s good to have someone like Renee. People like her don’t come around often.”
Winn looked down at his tools and smiled. “Yeah. She’s good people.”
That was huge coming from Winn. He rarely gave out compliments.
“That’s all you’re going to say?” I pressed, wanting to see how much he’d tell me.
“Yes.”
“That’s weirdly secretive.”
“It’s called professional boundaries.”
I tilted my head, studying him. “Mmhmm. And do those boundaries include buying her coffee every morning?”
He glanced up finally, his expression unreadable. “What makes you think I do that?”
“Because every time you’ve video-called me in the morning, you’re always picking up two coffees. And I doubt they’re both for you. You’re highly strung enough as it is.”
He stopped working. “It’s called being considerate. Maybe you should try it by not being so nosy.”
“I could, but where’s the fun in that?” I grinned, leaning back on the stool. “So, is she the reason you’ve been staying late, or is it because you actually like the work?”
Winn set down his tools, dusting his hands as if the conversation itself was something he also wanted to put down and walk away from. “Just because you ask something slightly differently, doesn’t mean you’re going to get a different answer.”
“You’re lame,” I sighed, but smiled when I saw the corner of his mouth tug up just slightly.
“If you’re that bored, go bother Mom.”
“Yeah, no thanks.”
He muttered something under his breath, probably a prayer for patience.
I wanted to talk to Winn about how he always caved to the family. But whenever I brought it up, he’d shut me down immediately. All I wanted was for him to be happy, the same way he wanted me to be happy.
I glanced back at Winn, catching the way his eyes softened when he looked at the wood he was working on—as if crafting something real and lasting was the antidote to all the mess outside these walls.
“Thanks for letting me annoy you so much recently,” I said quietly.
He shrugged, already reaching for another piece of wood. “We’re family. And on top of that, you’re my little sister. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”
Except that was a foreign concept for the rest of the Kings, and despite telling myself I was over it after all these years, it still stung.